Rel's Faded Glory III: Glory Reborn (FINAL UPDATE 6/22 - SHE'S DONE, BABY!!)

[Rel]

As promised...

They appeared in the usual place atop Hrongar’s Hill. The place was bustling with activity but those passing by clearly were astonished to see Lazarius appear from nowhere with a dozen birds sitting all over him. They were no less amazed when Speaks, Scar, Rhys, Marcus, Cathal, Ilrath and Marius fluttered one by one to the ground and resumed their normal forms. By earlier agreement, Magdar and his Orcs retained their bird forms until it could be explained to Urdrax that they were not hostile.

Marcus, Scar and Rhys crowded onto the Magic Carpet and gave a quick wave to the others as they ascended into the sky and began to head southwards. Marcus did not really know either of these two men, though he had heard Speaks speak fondly of them. Marcus decided that if they were going to be risking their lives against Bale that it would serve him well to get a better sense of them. He cried above the wind, “You have my thanks for taking me on this errand with your carpet.”

Rhys gave a wry smile and yelled back, “Don’t thank me. Thank the King of Sythia.”

Marcus thought this odd, he responded, “Do you serve him?”

Rhys smiled and shook his head, “Not exactly.”

Marcus was even more confused now, “Then why should I be thanking him?”

Rhys continued to smile, “He’s the one I stole the carpet from!”

Marcus was taken aback. Thievery was not something he approved of but he was in little position to complain about it now since this bit of larceny was helping him carry out his mission as well as the fact that it was a long way to the ground. He still couldn’t help but respond in a disapproving tone, “I would imagine that the King is rather mad about that.”

The elf laughed, “Not half as mad as he was when his daughter rode away with me on the carpet!”

*******************

Lazarius and Marius needed to be on their way as well. They exchanged a last batch of well wishes to the others before the Wizard reached out and gripped Marius’ arm. Since he only had one passenger to transport the weight was manageable and it was not necessary for Marius to be in bird form. Lazarius was just as glad since he didn’t relish teleporting into the Imperial War College looking like some sort of mad ornithologist. They vanished from Hrongar’s Hill leaving Speaks, Cathal and Ilrath to move uphill toward Urdrax’s Mead Hall. The small flock of birds that had arrived with them fluttered up to rest on the ridgepole of the lodge.

They mounted the steps of the Mead Hall to be informed by the guards that Urdrax and Hrothan were not there. They were down at the southern edge of the hill meeting with the Suevi. Speaks and Cathal exchanged glances at this. Last they’d heard Relmar, chieftain of the Suevi, had been steadfastly against moving his people out of their ancestral lands. Perhaps the marching Legions of Emor had changed his mind.

They descended the hill and exited the palisade. They could see that it was being strengthened and expanded all down its length. Whether that would do any good against Bale and his minions was anybody’s guess.

They entered the Suevi encampment and made for the chieftain’s pavilion located near the center. The guards outside stopped them but recognized all three men a moment later. They were openly astonished to see Ilrath had returned but held their questions and instead stepped inside to announce them. A moment later they were all brought into the large tent.

Inside, seated on mats on the floor were Urdrax of the Brigantes, Hrothan of the Corritani, Seshmarl of the Allmani and Scipio the Dire Mountain Lion. A scattering of maps littered the floor in the middle of the group. They all stood and warmly greeted the tribesmen and the Druid. There was clearly much to talk about but Speaks did not wish to have to repeat himself to those not present. “Where is Relmar? Are the Nervii coming?”

The others exchanged somewhat nervous glances. Urdrax answered the second question first, “The Nervii are marching south to our aid and should be here by tomorrow.”

It was Scipio who answered the first question, “Relmar is dead. I killed him.”

“WHAT?!” cried Speaks.

“He refused to take a course of action that would preserve our people. I challenged him for leadership of the tribe and I killed him in single combat. I am now the chieftain of the Suevi. I have adopted the name Uthreld.” Silence filled the tent in the wake of the great cat’s announcement.

Speaks was stunned as his mind raced to catch up to the consequences of this development. As his brain closed the gap another question rose to his lips, “What about Orthula and…her son?”

Uthreld turned his gaze away from Speaks, “She fled. I tried to make her understand that my quarrel was not with her and that she and her son were welcome to continue to share my lodge. But she left that night and has not been seen since. She took the boy with her. I think she will be safe from the Legions. A woman and baby, particularly a woman with her skills, will attract little attention.”

Speaks sank to the ground, speechless for now. Urdrax sought to fill the awkward silence, “What news from the north?”

Cathal and Ilrath looked at one another. Cathal addressed his chieftain, “None that is good. I think we should sit and have food and ale brought in. There is much to tell…”

 

[Old One]

The elf laughed, “Not half as mad as he was when his daughter rode away with me on the carpet!”

Hah! I almost spit soda out my nose on that one!

~ OO

 

[Rel]

Since it's been over a week since I posted I figured that I should at least give a heads-up. This has (thankfully) been a busy work week for me and that will continue through tomorrow. I should be able to update the Story Hour on Friday though. Looking forward to it. When I'm denied time to write because of work I start jonesing for it.

 

[Rel]

Marcus could see the column of Legionnaires stretching out behind the banners that were in the vanguard. There were doubtlessly Imperial Scouts scattered out in front of the Legions but they were not as easily visible as the mass of men that stretched over the next hilltop in front of them. Still, something looked…odd about the Emorian soldiers. It was impossible to tell what it was from this distance but the way they moved and the colors worn were just a bit off.

Rhys slowed the Carpet and Marcus asked him to descend. They landed behind a copse of trees and climbed off the magical conveyance, stretching their legs from the hours they’d spent in the air, hunched together on the small rug. Scar stepped to the edge of the trees and, no evil altars being handy, relieved himself on an unsuspecting shrub.

The Elf addressed the Human, “So it looked like maybe a couple of thousand men down there. What if they decide that they don’t like us?”

Marcus unstrapped the Shield from his back and affixed it to his arm where it glittered in the sunlight, impossibly unblemished from hard fighting. “I’m going to appeal to Brother Lucius’s sense of honor and duty as a long serving devotee to St. Cuthbert. I know that you’ve had some bad experiences with him in the past but he is a man dedicated to the Law and I believe that he will relent when he sees the injustice of his actions.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah…but what about when that doesn’t work?”

Marcus gave the irreverent Elf a sidelong glance that was impressive in its ability to convey that, while he did not appreciate the lack of faith, Marcus too shared some doubts about whether Capito would halt his march on the tribes of the Fodor.

Rhys, who was no slouch in the sidelong glance department, appreciated the effort. He nodded, “I’ll keep the Carpet handy.”

With the Elf’s reservations stated, the Human’s Shield strapped on and the Half-Orc’s bladder empty, there seemed little else to do but stroll down the hill and confront the army of thousands that awaited them.

They paused just inside the far edge of the copse to look at the oncoming troops. The column was moving very quickly given the lack of roads. And it appeared that the troops were spread out across a wider rank than was standard. Marcus figured that this was to keep from muddying the ground so badly for the troops behind.

At the head of the column, right next to the Imperial Crest and the Legionary Insignia was the banner depicting the Cross of St. Cuthbert. Marcus swore inwardly that if Capito had been corrupted by Bane that he would not carry that banner another step into the Northlands. He strode forth out of the trees to cover the last few hundred paces to the vanguard. Rhys and Scar followed a few steps behind, tense and ready for danger.

Hands went up from those on horseback at the head of the column and the troops behind halted. This process continued back along the line of troops as the column contracted like a spring.

Marcus could see as he drew closer that those at the head of the column held their pila and wore their gladii at their belts. But they wore no armor. And they looked tired from their march.

Lucius Capito was wearing his armor and as he broke from the vanguard to ride over and meet Marcus, his hand held the Mace. It held a certain radiance similar to the Shield but every angle on it spoke of its purpose: To smite.

“Hail, Brother,” called Marcus though his voice held little brotherly love.

“Hail, Brother,” Capito said in return. He reined his horse in some dozen paces from Marcus. Close enough to hear him speak but not without speaking loudly.

Marcus decided that he would rather have Capito react to his words than the other way around, “Brother Lucius, as we speak a great Evil walks the earth to the north. It is the reborn brother of Bane. His name is Bale and he is destruction incarnate.

Even now, he moves south toward the valiant peoples of the Fodor Valley. They intend to oppose him and they do not need the Imperial Legions seizing their homelands as they provide a bulwark between Bale and the lands of the Empire.

In the name of Justice, I ask that you order these Legions to cease their march upon these proud people and return to their fortifications on the shores of the Crescent Sea. And if you would do the will of our Lord then come with me and stand against Bale.” Marcus braced himself for the Inquisitor’s response.

“Your words strike hard upon my faith, Brother Marcus. I will not ask these men to return to their fortress in the south. Look upon their faces. They are tired and hungry and footsore. They have come far, fast and it shall not be for nothing. Our destiny lies here, in the Fodor Valley.

But we do not come as conquerors as your words rudely suggest. You forget that I too serve as a Hand of our Lord. I am guided by him and it was he who showed me that I must take those men who would follow me and march north.

We have come to fight alongside the warriors of the Fodor, not against them. We come to fight Bale.”

 

[Belen]

Awesome. I was expecting this guy to turn evil and suddenly he becomes and ally. That rocks.

 

[HalfOrc HalfBiscuit]

We have come to fight alongside the warriors of the Fodor, not against them. We come to fight Bale.”

Cries all round for sense motive checks?

 

[Riggs]

Cries all round for sense motive checks?

A few eyebrows were raised. And don't forget the prophecy regarding the wielders of the mace and shield. We all suspected the "other guy"

Without spoiling anything, I can say I was pleased with how Capito played out, and we were relieved when he said he was there to help, since we were thinking we were about to get our behinds handed to us in a most unkind manner from Bale.

 

[Rel]

Without spoiling anything, I can say I was pleased with how Capito played out, and we were relieved when he said he was there to help, since we were thinking we were about to get our behinds handed to us in a most unkind manner from Bale.

I really came to like this NPC during the course of these two campaigns. He's a great example (in my mind anyway) of an NPC who is steadfastly pursuing his own agenda and sometimes it helps you out and sometimes it is a big pain in the butt.

On the update front, the only job I had scheduled for this week (tomorrow) just got cancelled so I'll be posting then. Fortunately next week is going to be very busy and should offset my slack week this week.

 

[BSF]

Short update, but very nice Rel! I was kinda hoping Capito would be bringing reinforcements. Hopefully, it will turn out well.

I love the games where the actions of the PCs force everyone to change plans and adjust to accomodate what the PCs just did, or didn't do. It seems like this stage of the game is where all the work from earlier is starting to provide dividends for the PCs.

 

[Rel]

Ahead on the horizon the towering oaks of Great Root’s Grove formed a bulge in the even canopy of the Darkwood. Spring was coming on and the treetops were becoming alive with a pale green that almost seemed to make them glow. It was as if the land was oblivious to the darkness that stalked the world to the west.

Speaks alighted among the treetops and immediately noted that something was amiss. The birds were not singing as loudly as was typical and he did not see so many flickers of movement as the squirrels and deer scampered around the edges of the Grove. It felt abandoned. Speaks’ pulse raced as he flitted from perch to perch looking for some sign of what had happened.

His eagle eyes picked out some telltale gouges in the earth and he flew down to the ground to inspect them. After a few minutes of close scrutiny he determined that Great Root had left heading west and a large number of animals were with him. Was he fleeing something or did he know of Bale’s return? Only one way to know for certain. Speaks took to the air once more.

It was nearly sundown when he saw the herd of animals moving westward. In their midst Great Root’s crown swayed back and forth with his lumbering stride. The other trees improbably never quite seemed to be in the way of his huge, oaken branches. But that was one of the benefits of the close ties he and Speaks both shared with the land. Speaks alighted nearby and resumed his human form.

The other animals continued to move while Great Root paused to greet his friend and ally, “I was hoping I might see you again before we go to our fate.”

“So you know about Bale?” speaks asked.

“The Destroyer walks the land again, as he did when my father’s father’s father was but an acorn. It is a terrible responsibility that has befallen our generation my young friend. And yet I would wish it on no other.”

Speaks felt the sense of calm pervade him as it always did when in the presence of the Guardian of the Darkwood. “I had come to tell you of Bale’s return and to seek your aid if you would lend it. I should have known that you would already be moving to stop such a force of death.”

“I shall do what I can.”

“We will need whatever aid you can lend. The Tribes of the Fodor are thin in number after last years war with the Orcs. And their Shamans lack much of their strength when outside their tribal boundaries. I wish I could make them understand how to embrace the whole of the Wild instead of only the aspects represented by their totems.”

The bark on Great Root’s face furrowed. “It may soon be that they have no choice my friend. I have foreseen something terrible that may come to pass before this conflict is over.”

“What is it?”

“We shall discuss it later my friend. It shall happen or it shall not happen but it is not something that you or I can change. And so it is best that we put our strength to the things that we can change.”

“What you say is true, Great Root. And there is little enough time to do the few things that can most make a difference. Let me tell you a few things of which I have need…”

-----------------------------------------

As dawn broke the following morning, Speaks awoke to the swaying motion where he rode among Great Root’s branches. The Treant Druid stopped to let the human down and bade him goodbye.

Speaks thanked Great Root for his aid and reverently held in his hands the crown of thin, oak branches that had been given to him. He gently placed it upon his head and walked over to a nearby oak tree. He turned back to Great Root once more, “I will tell them to expect you at Hrogar’s Hill within three days. They will be glad of your aid, great one.”

“I come as fast as my old limbs will carry me, friend. I will be there.”

Speaks turned back to the oak and closed his eyes. He stepped forward toward the Tree and with a single Stride he vanished to reappear far to the west amid a copse of trees. He could hear chopping noises downhill and moved to the edge of the clearing.

An army was encamped in front of Hrongar’s Hill! Imperial Legionary Banners flew next to a pavilion and all along the edge of the woods Legionnaires stood shoulder to shoulder with Fodor Tribesmen as they cut trees for the palisade. For a brief moment Speaks cringed at the thought of the hundreds of young trees that were being cut down. But their lives were sacrificed for a just cause and this was no time to start that argument.

He transformed into an eagle and flew the final half mile up onto the Hill. He went straightaway to Udrax’s Mead Hall where he found the Chieftains, including Uthreld, in consultation with Marcus and Lucius Capito as well as a couple other men in the livery of Legion officers. All of them looked to the Druid for news and he did not keep them waiting, “Great Root comes and he brings the creatures of the forest to fight along side him. They should be here within three days.”

The others gave each other worried glances. Marcus spoke for them, “It will be close but that should be in time.” Turning back to Speaks, Marcus addressed their personal mission, “I am hoping that the others will have returned here by this afternoon that we may depart for Glynden.”

Speaks nodded. “I have a few things that must be done before that. I will be in the forest to the west if you need me.”

Marcus returned the nod and went back to leaning over the maps laid before the collected soldiers.

Speaks made his way into the forest and sat down with his back to a tree. He took out a quill and a small vial of ink and in just a few minutes had written a handful of short notes. His magic called out to the birds of the forest and as each came to him he tied the small notes to their feet and released them into the air. Two flew west, two east, one south. All carried a plea for help from old friends and enemies.

------------------------------

Bale came south and his minions flocked behind. The constant bellowing had stopped. He was out of the Blackpeaks now and the creatures of this land did not answer the call of his blood. Instead they fled before him not needing to hear his malevolent voice to sense the coming evil.

The godling came within sight of the first Nervii village at sundown. Aside from a few stray chickens the livestock was gone and there was not a human in sight. But one never knew when there might be a stubborn farmer or lost child cringing in some shed or barn. And even if he knew that not a sole remained in the village he would still tear it to splinters. It was what he did.

A boulder came loose and rolled down a nearby hillock. A moment later there was a rumbling from deep within the earth and the entire hill began to tremble and shake. Bale stopped in front of it.

Before him the ground rose up and began to take the shape of some sort of four-legged creature. It continued to rise until it stood some 30 feet high, just taller than Bale. The form refined itself into that of a huge wolf made of earth and stone.

It has been many seasons since you walked the land, Destroyer. Your absence has not been cause for grief and you will not be missed when you are gone again. Hate is all you sow and hate is all you shall reap.

I know that you are no more capable of turning away from me than water is of running uphill. So come at me and let us see who shall prevail and who shall be destroyed.

A deep laughter came from Bale’s throat of blood. He drew himself up just a bit taller than the Spirit of the Land. You know me too well, Wolf Spirit. Hate me as you like, you have still seen your last of this world! Bale charged.

The Spirit of the Land knew this would happen and ducked under Bale’s swing. Earthen jaws brought giant teeth of stone closing around Bale’s torso and began to clamp shut. But the Blood that made up his body was not so easily harmed or seized.

With a howl of hateful triumph, Bale brought his Black Mace down onto the side of the Spirit’s head. He would have encountered no more resistance if he had struck at a shadow and the ebony sphere drove through the Spirit’s head and emerged from the other side. The world stopped in shock for an instant before the earthen wolf collapsed into so much loose stone and dirt.

Bale’s blood sang with the destruction of so powerful a force. If each Spirit challenged him as he entered its lands, he would soon be invincible! He raised his voice to the sky and screamed his defiance. Not to any purpose. Not for any gain. He screamed his triumph for the same reason he did everything.

Because he could.